Live To Tell
by vogueinnocencebeauty
Summary: "You are human and free - for now", the malicious whispers of David still haunt Sierra Frog. Life has changed for both Sierra and Michael, the half-vampire engraving itself into their lives forever. It isn't over, and Sierra knows that. Secrets have been spilled, she knows the truth now, but her future is a mystery. The only question she can ask is: When will it start again?
1. I Have A Tale

_**A/N:** _Hey again, guys! Sierra's back for another little journey full of dark adventures. Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed my two other stories about Sierra; the support has not only been inspiring, but incredibly endearing and it means a lot to know people like my work. Please continue the support, it's great! Secondly, please review as this is the first chapter and I'd love to know your opinions. Most importantly, enjoy!

**_~vogueinnocencebeauty._**

**_Live To Tell..._**

**_Two Months Later... November 1987._**

**_I have a tale to tell..._**

Being deceased is an odd notion, the fact someone can be living, healthy and youthful one moment, deteriorating with age until their time is up, just like the sun in a million years time. It is something that doesn't cross my mind because I don't like the thought of it. I had my chance to be immortal, and I wisely turned it down. I don't want that life, and I'm glad I didn't consent David to defeat me as I wouldn't have my future today. Emotionally, the event has in some ways blemished me as a person, but I don't regret going through the ordeal for one moment as it created a stronger person in me and granted me to meet other people who would change my life.

I attempt to draw out positives from the experience and it works to improve the negatives that transpired from it. I met Michael, a man who truly altered my life and educated me what the sensation of feeling loved is like. He presented me with the gift of not having to rely on my instincts and gave me freedom from my independent nature. One memory that won't ever desert me is the night Michael and I met at my family's comic store in June.

**_Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well... _**

As I perform the picturesque event in my head, I permit the two corners of my rosy lips to elevate themselves simultaneously with the motion of hoisting my body up gracefully in an intricate manner so I am elegantly twirling on the tip of my big toe, the formalized movement conveying poetic expression. The mellifluous gesture is chanting with clarity, the emotions strident. My mind wanders to Dwayne, the man I have distinguished in the dark many times, but have only incarcerated his fixated stare. We haven't talked for two months. He diminishes as the light of the future fortifies, and it's there in the darkness, we all shine. We, as in those who battled the vampire's malevolent schemes effectively.

**_I was not ready for the storm... _**

It was ferocious in the story, a victorious song where the power cascaded out of the soulful voice like acid, which in favour, reflects onto the three dancers in the room. Our personal body heat radiates, a sheen of sweat concealing our faces. The intensity of the dance pillages me of oxygen, deserting me to ensure I am breathless. That's precisely what I desire – to have my breath stolen away from me. Ragged, disorganized breaths liberate from our mouths with each step created with exactitude. It suited my mood, evocative of the past that has affected me. The final choreographed move, it must be utter perfection. It strikes! It was immaculate, and will abandon an audience with a commendable caress they will recall for the rest of their lives. From the minute all the music ceases to exist, a miniscule second of silence is engrossed with the wheezing squeals from two good friends. Live to Tell fades out, but the lyrics haunt me. No one, but those who lived through it, will know what we endured those three months.

"Shit, that was..." Lana pants, musing over her word choice "the shit!" Ginger and I immediately burst out laughing, primarily at her favourite word. "What's wrong with the word shit? It's a great word!"

Lana stands there, hands on her slender hips toned from just over a decade of dancing, with a tall stance towering over both Ginger and I, those glossy black tresses cascading down to the bottom of her back, an absolute beauty queen. Though I am 5'6, Lana stands at an invincible 5'9. All of our lives, we have strived to reach this destination of studying the art, dancing until we are nothing but sweat and blood, and to attain the recognition we deserve to be given in order to reach the peak of our aspirations – dance college. Mainly, my heart wishes to travel transversely around the world, but there is always the dominating sickness felt when musing over my departure from the state I've been calling home since the day I was born.

I glance at the clock suspending from an elderly grocery store opposite the dance studio, reading the time as about eight thirty at night. We have been dancing for around five hours non-stop to various songs, practicing until precision was accomplished. Within just under an hour with each song communicated through cassette, we reached the salvation of knowing we created something with a grand value of importance to us. Dance has always been my retreat to a fantasy world where everything is blithe and boundaries crafted by those superior to us can be fractured.

After we had cleansed the evaporating sweat from our faces and had modified our outfits of damp baggy jumpers draping off of our shoulders and stirrup pants to something more suited for public, we made our way out of the studio and part ways. I am wearing my chemically bleached denim jacket that swamps on me alongside a black and white polka dot jumpsuit brimming with white lace and overlapping necklaces, mainly dramatically enlarged crosses suspending from the silver chains. To complete this appearance, I painted my face with cosmetics suited for my sun-kissed skin, as well as some 50's inspired cat-eye eyeliner that caused my ocean blue eyes to be prominent and ruby lipstick which had the purpose of governing the night ahead.

However, only one man has control of the right to endearingly possess everything I am – Michael. Subsequent to the battle, I was bestowed the money my maternal grandparents left behind for me. For the first time in my life, I declared myself an affluent being. Through this financial gain, Michael and I bought a house on the outskirts of Santa Carla where each night we drift into a terrorizing slumber to the peaceful waves crashing gently together, its song lulling us into a momentary haven. Whilst the deal abided by no physical contact from both Dwayne and David, David deciphered this as mental contact being permitted. For the first night, I authentically missed them both. The amount of how much I missed him was shown draping over drenched mascara concealed eyelashes and incessantly discharging down my cheeks. This only lasted for the night, and after that, I questioned whether I was crying from the relief of being unchained from their sin, or whether it was because I pined for those days where everything was alright. It's taking me a while to let those memories burn, but after thinking of how traumatic the experience was, I don't think they'll ever abandon me.

One dream they gifted me broke my heart for mere seconds after I awakened. Three vampires were acquainted with their fate that night in the pretend world of nightmares: Delilah, who fell prey to her demise when she metamorphosed into a vampire during her three year period of being an abducted woman. Secondly was Dwayne, the man whose cocoa eyes slipped shut for the ultimate time when I killed him, gouging his soundless heart encompassed with love for me, with the lethal weapon famous for slaughtering all vampires. Finally, was David – the man I to this very second hold the greatest amount of detestation for. I have been free of his poisonous inflictions for two months now. The conclusion of my hatred is pending. The worst dream was four days after Leonardo's death...

_"I'm still here, Sierra. I'm not finished with you yet" his smoky voice growled. I covered my ears, the pressure of my hands pressing onto them was so strong, and it felt as if a boulder was crushing them with all of its powerful might. _

_I just wanted his horrendous voice to die, to be submitted to a replicating death that was far from kind. I wanted him to suffer the excruciation he subjected upon me. Every night it was an apocalypse in my mind, his voice commanded it. My tears pleaded him to cease his hisses, my heart desired to yield to his requests, but my soul was resolute to overpower him. _

_ As I wept, my fears were unleashed into the wild, exposed for him to see. He would cackle menacingly at this, like it presented him with great satisfaction. I thought these tormenting voices had expired along with the dream. I was the fool who believed it would do just that. _

_I hadn't slept for three nights and three days, the night petrified me because I foresaw the yelling and the barking from the night before, and acknowledged he was going to strike again the next night. _

_I clamoured to my feet, daring myself to bare my ears to his jeering whispers. I was frightened. My hands were quaking and I feared that if I even glanced into the mirror, his reflection of platinum blonde hair and a cruel sneer would be there staring at me. _

_"Sierra?" Michael grumbled, I could hear him climb sluggishly out of my bed, the mattress creaking with the rusted springs. "Sierra, baby, are you awake?" This wasn't the primary time Michael had forced himself out of a peaceful slumber because I had been awoken by taunts. It had been a regular occurrence for weeks. _

_It was unattainable for him to hurt me. He couldn't harm me. He was deceiving me. _

_"Look at me – now" _

_My head snagged to the mirror I was afraid of, my nightmare facing me with his golden eyes boring into my frail being. In the dead of the night, where the lights had decayed, he seized my sanity. _

_The world that had granted me so much contentment and fright, commenced in spiralling whilst he cackled forebodingly. Footsteps increased, the sound drowning in my ears. I had trapped myself in here, confining myself with him – the monster I once thought was my friend. The door handle rattled, and again, and again, and again like a furious rattlesnake. _

_"Sierra? Baby, are you feeling okay?" His voice would be the last thing I heard until I woke up the following day. _

_"Michael" I whispered his name, a placid caress, a hopeful prayer that would make everything vanish. Darkness congested my sight, my mind and my body. It enclosed in on me, ready to attack. _

_My body plummeted to the barren floor, my head making painful with it. The rattling of the doorknob heightened, panic being heard. The banging, the kicking at the pine frame faded out until I reached a state of happiness. I was unshackled from him – David. _

Certain things still haunt us from our time as a half-vampire. The sun is no longer a summer delight, showers are off limits as our skin numbly senses what would have once blistered us and we no longer elicit the full enchantment from our favourite meals. It doesn't taste bland, but the food we once relished had withered slightly. I shake my head, the most tragic of the effect striking to kill, and soon it is removed, only by the benevolent presence of my fiancée, standing in front of me with a broad grin on his plump, silken lips.

My upper set of teeth clamp down on my rouged bottom lip as they begin to form a teasing smile, skipping over to Michael who strides towards me, his intense light blue eyes deeply staring into mine as if he were scouring them for a long lost treasure, capturing my cheeks once he is in my comfort zone, lowering his head to my height so our lips make passionate contact for a lengthy and cherished second. He raises, a satisfied grin being his most striking feature, the palms of his lukewarm hands still cupping my blushing cheeks and his thumbs stroking the scarlet pigment leaking into my naturally bronzed skin.

"Have a good dance session, princess?" he asks, his tone just as seductive as his kiss.

A little stunned still from the lustful exchange of affection, I peer up at him and nod enthusiastically, then deciding to tantalize him by reaching up with the objective of kissing his lips once more, but only consent my bottom lip to touch his, retracting with a mischievous grin that mirrors his. Jokingly, Michael pouts and lowers his hands so they lightly hold my slim hips.

"Why tease me like this, Boo-Bear? It's breaking my heart" Michael weeps in jest, arching his back to continue his jocular sobs into my bared shoulder.

Instead, he extracts amusement from blowing raspberries on my neck, causing me to unearth the hidden giggles lurking within the depths of my stomach that now aches from the blissful laughter. Michael raises his head ever so slightly, rubbing his nose against mine, hastily yet softly kissing my lips.

"Going to kiss me now?" With a response of a cheerful 'no' suffocated by giggles, he repeats the quick and supple kiss. "Now?" Again, with the giggles amplified, I say no. "What about now?" Those giggles ascend dramatically in volume as he begins blowing raspberries on my neck again, until I finally relent, screaming the answer he wanted from me. "Good, I've missed you" he murmurs as we press our faces closely together, savouring the consoling warmth exuding from his sun-kissed skin, our lips entangling amorously and my scalp tingling as his fingers roam freely in my dark locks.

Abruptly, we are interrupted. Our heads snap up at the very sound. The dreadful, rumbling nightmare returns, materializing into a reality. Heart pounding, beads of sweat emerging, we watch the smirk crawling on his wintry lips that have been smeared with the blood of thousands prior to this night. Within moments, the black motorbikes have passed. Though they have vanished into the treacherous shadows of the night, my pulse continues to throb frantically. Michael and I flick our eyes onto each other, and immediately, he hauls me into his guarding arms, the back of his hand nimbly brushing the top of my head, flowing down to my shoulders.

"Fucking asshole should be sticking to the deal" Michael growls, evidently furious at David's disruption. I sigh, leaning a little onto Michael's robust frame, gazing at moon and musing over why it approves of the monsters who stalk the darkness to wander the earth's surface.

**_I told you before... you are human and free – for now. _**


	2. Gods And Monsters

_I'm incredibly happy with the reception to this story so far, so awesome to know people like my work :) Thank you to the people below for their support: _

_~EvilFalconofDoom (who also helped me develop Michael as a character, thank you!) _

_~Fire And Ash _

_~vaguebeauty (please read her new story You Belong To Us, its so good) _

_~ Whovain101_

_~MarvelWorksWonder (awesome name by the way) _

_~Sarah-Frog-Brothers-Fan_

_Please keep the reviews coming, guys. They are very much appreciated and I love knowing what you all have to say :) _

_Enjoy the chapter! As a disclaimer, I don't own any of the characters, excluding my OC's. Oh yeah, and this contains some sexual content. _

* * *

_His mindless taunts will not cease, they are everlasting. He has ensnared me in his heart-shaped incarceration. Those seducing dark locks cascading down to his naked, moon-kissed back tangle like silk in my slender, dainty fingers, his molten chocolate eyes enticing me into allowing him to finish seeking my embrace. Breathless from what he has gifted me, I permit my hands to roam the rest of his sculpted body. Though I allow it, he is the one restraining my self-control from functioning. Those supple lips of his sweep across mine, exploring each part of me without any limitations to hinder neither him nor the gasps escaping from my throat. The person watching this man who ruptured everything I felt for him screams desperately with their hopeless aim being to impede this passionate act. My body quivers, freezing as if his coffee-brown eyes were those of Medusa, as jagged fangs penetrate my skin, the erotic joy heard blatantly in his growl. I want to scream out of an undiluted excruciation as it climaxes to something unbearable. __**Please, stop.**_

_Rich, crimson blood swirls around my ocean blue eyes metaphorically, but in the physical world of these inexplicable dreams that devour every inch of my sanity, I can feel the liquid of my death trickle down my breasts, all the way down to my pulsating stomach where my heart now resides. A deadly love once consumed my heart, but he has drained it. __**Dwayne, please, stop. **_

_In this dream of the night, he owns me like I am nothing but a toy to pleasure his desires. His blood-sated breath encroaches nearby, magnetizing itself to my ear where I feel his shuddering, smoky voice...then capturing his pale, icy blue stare and platinum locks. This is not longer Dwayne – it is David. _

**_"You are human for now. Never forget that" _**

With a jolt, my eyes snap open to view the shadows engulfing the bedroom Michael and I share in our home. Blinking several times to assure myself that I am authentically back in the world where those dreams are akin to realism, I take in a deep intake of the scent of apple and cinnamon incense joss sticks that linger around the house, the ablaze orange glow now dimming hastily to blend with the unforthcoming shadows. In the background, I hear the sloshing of the majestic waves at a gentle pace, the wind now placid so it camouflages the sinister enigma behind the slogan of **_'Murder Capital of The World'._**

I grumble as my body, tender from strenuous hours of dance, comes to life once more, lifting my head from Michael's unclothed chest that twitches, his soul immersed in a dream. Momentarily, I rest my forehead embellished with sweat on his chest again, listening intently to the murmurs narrating his equally tempestuous visions that only occur at night. Knowing the nature of his blustery dreams, I circumspectly shake him until he rouses. He breathes in, just as I do like it is a ritual to ensure we are safe, furrowing his brow and scratching his forehead gleaming with a humid sweat. Without even glancing at me, he envelops his muscular arm around me and tenderly pulls me to his body where he strokes my dark brown tresses like an artist dedicated to his fine work.

Dwayne sends me these quixotic dreams sometimes, just to harass me or to deride my choice. I refuse to allow it to affront me though, that would mean letting him triumph. For now, I ignore them and focus on the person I do love, not a monster who yearns for me to love him.

"Did you have a nightmare, baby?" he croaks, his voice nearly incoherent as he revives himself fully from an outlandish planet we only go to when in a deep slumber.

I nod, snuggling against his neck so his brown curls drape over my forehead, burrowing myself away from the mention of what I had to face minutes ago. I squint my eyes, grunting as the sudden light extending to each corner of this room, annihilating the shadows, and bind my right arm around Michael's lower torso in order to feel more protected, enjoying the respite bestowed as he allocates delicate, pacifying kisses on my forehead, stroking the hair from my face and lightly coiling chaotic strands around his index finger.

"You want me to make you a nice glass of warm milk, princess? Get you back to sleep again?" Michael asks, and I nod again, murmuring a courteous please. Before he can place a single toe on the plush, beige carpet, I tug on his boxer shorts which instantly earns me a chuckle from Michael accompanied by a lascivious crooked smile. "Wanna watch some TV for a while, Sierra-Bear?"

I beam with glee as he delivers me into his brawny arms, his soothing rhythm as he cradles me nearly causing me to dive into the unforgiving dimension of explicit terrors. I can't venture back to there currently; I'm not prepared to deal with the likes of Dwayne and David just yet. Once I am settled and no longer ponder over how I correlate my past life with my night-time hallucinations, then I can battle them again. Though the battle of blood died two months ago, they haven't stopped.

My field of vision adjusts hastily to the weak light initially attacking my fatigued eyes, my head swivelling around the spotless living room. Due to my past experience of caring solely for Edgar and Alan, I take pride in maintain a pristine home, something Michael helps me with each week. My sights soon land on the country-style coffee table constructed with reclaimed wood sitting sturdily on an iron base - a souvenir from Grandpa Emerson's house as he decided he didn't need it anymore – littered neatly with a stack of magazines that range from fashion to sport, an assortment of candles such as the light brown warm apple pie and cream vanilla, and a framed Polaroid of Michael and I at the beach during summer this year.

**_1987..._**so much has occurred in this year. Although my life has been somewhat turbulent, all of the turmoil escalated radically. Everything just fluctuated. Friends ebbed away and contorted into enemies, a sister missing for three years revealed herself, and I found love, all within three months. The months preceding June 1987 were a mild palaver in comparison and I was naively unaware due to being socialized to believe my upbringing was typical of any other child, teenager and young adult. As a teenager, I grew to realize it was not, but I disregarded this truth and persisted to care for my brothers. I had to for their benefit. My mom now lives with them in a different house, away from my father. However, she flees back to him every now and then, despite recent revelations of his egotistic role in David's retribution.

Michael lowers me onto the white and brown plaid couch, sheathing my torso with a fleecy blanket, kissing the top of my head before going over to the visible kitchen adjoined with the living room. I roll over and watch him as he pours the heated up nutritional drink into two glasses, bringing it over to me with an amiable smile. I gently clasp onto the glass, thanking him with a pleasant tone, feeling the warmth emitting from it forming a moist mask in the palms of my two hands.

I've been disregarding this lump enlarging in my throat as a result of wishing so emphatically to veil this need to scream, to release all this perplexity, this ferocity lurking inside of me. There was a time where I felt lost, disconnected from this image of who I believed I was. It was only mere weeks ago. I didn't know what to deem as valid; were they gone or is this just a game? I had been avidly waiting for the next strike, secluding myself from even going out at night until I built up the valour to do so again. The half-vampire has left its scar, an invisible sign that it possesses me still. During all of this was adamant not to embroil Michael and I in that torturous affair again. Restoring peace is more complex than I imagined it would be, but I am unyielding when it comes to reaching that aspiration.

I am jerked out of this reflection as Michael switches the TV on. Joan Collin's voice wasn't the voice to lug me from this troubled reverie though. It was **_his_** commanding advice...

**_Cry, little sister – you know you want to. _**

There is a diverse meaning regarding wanting to do something and being coerced into doing something for another's merciless need, especially when the secondary person is a person who never relents to terminate a lethal voyage. It cost him two of his brothers, yet that means nothing to him?

With a heavy sigh that may have a facade of being woeful, I sip some of the thirst-quenching milk, situating it on the coffee table in front of me before tilting my body onto Michael who continues to support me, knowing that our bedroom evokes a disheartening memory...

* * *

_The morning vividness of the sun hanging in the clear, blue sky burned my eyes, but I had another pain vexing me. This dull contraction in my lower abdomen was antagonizing me, and as I twisted over, I yelped out in nothing but agony. It was a searing slash in slow motion flaring up my back. Vertigo spiralled in my inner thoughts. Never before had I felt something so savage invade my body. The vampire was far from this plaguing affliction. My vision blurred as a crimson blush absorbed my fright. Fresh, snow white bed sheets had been tainted by patches of blood formed in abnormal circular blotches – **my blood.** _

_Explosions of pain detonated repeatedly in my stomach, the pain so unbearable that it made every movement distort into bewilderment and every thought a question. What was going on? I managed to plummet to the floor, buckling down in nothing but sheer excruciation. _

_"Sierra?" his voice was a blur, a dreary blur that I wished so desirably to make crisp and ripe once more. He repeated my name again, and again, and again, growing nearer and nearer, the panic being heard in his voice as his eyes became fixated on the bloodshed. "Shit! Sierra, baby, what's happened? _

_I told him in slurred weeps that I could not concoct what was going on at that precise moment, my instinct and intellectual ability to distinguish pain between numbness gone. For a moment, I believed it was never going to return to me. Michael picked me up and carried me to the living room and the next thing I heard were disjointed sirens ricocheting around the tunnels of my ears. The questions of the medics seemed eccentric, but the result was all too clear regarding how I had been feeling in the days prior to this moment. _

**_Do you smoke? _**_Occasionally. **Have you been eating properly? **Yes, three meals a day. **Any exposure to radiation or toxic substances? **No. **Regular exercise? **Yes, I'm a dancer. Please could you just tell me what's go – **Any recent trauma? **A fallout with friends a few months ago. _

_I deceived them, but I couldn't tell them. Who would believe a girl claiming to have been transformed into a half-vampire by allowing herself to let a drop of pure blood slip past her lips and glide down her throat? _

_"But that means she was..." The words became silent, "...my kid" All I heard from Michael subsequent to those few word was the following "I don't want anything to happen to her" I glanced at the stained blood on Michael's hand, his fingers laced with mine. That blood instilled so many memories, painful ones and this was another to add. The shock sank in for a moment and I burst out crying, apologizing for the heartbreak. Michael held me, rocked me in his arms, stroked my hair, and later on, he did the same despite his own upset. It was all he could do. I asked David with a scorned tone if he was happy, and his reply terrified and bemused me: _

**_"Why would I be happy?"_**

* * *

"What was your dream?" Michael asks me, bringing me out of that melancholic reminiscence. I snap my head up to look at up, sighing as I shake my head.

"You don't want to know" I yawn, deciding whether to go to sleep again and face them again. I slip my eyes to a close.

**_I am ready to fight. _**


	3. Despair and Die

_Pheww, its been a while! Sorry about that, its about a month until my AS-Level exams though and of course, I need to study despite really not wanting to. *sigh* The things I do for school.. Anyway! I hope you all like this chapter. Please review as all your opinions matter a lot to me. Thank you and enjoy :)  
Dedicated to my bud, FireAndAsh! _

**_Despair and Die._**

Like tears rolling nonchalantly down a porcelain face defaced with the sad scarlet gleaming as distress releases itself, the steam now evaporated dribbles down the misty window. My eyelids demand so intensely to plunge down so I can escape this twilight condition of feeling exhausted yet elated. The thoughts will not stop torturing me. Every moment of the day they are in my head, the violence echoing silence of the stream of crimson blood drooling over his serrated teeth that morph into monsters as people swarm my thoughts. Their blood is the fatal liquid that oozes from them, exploding into the sky like a magnificent fountain erupting is the image that haunts me. Even more so is that deadly silence that beckons me to join their merriment once that globe of fire sinks, the horizon engulfing it completely. Nevertheless, the dark red droplets screaming **_'despair and die'_** imparts the memory of months before. The tempting crave will never abandon me, it will never lessen its fright. The beloved tonic of David and Dwayne will always call when I am frail or strong.

Like death approaching, my face resembles the white light of the reaper or angel. Heart pounding, pumping that dreaded liquid speedily around the course of my narrow veins, I knew the faces of the men who terrorize my nights. I would acknowledge those horrifyingly beautiful faces even if my memories were swiped from me. It was as if they were pressed against the window, the mist devouring the icy blue and molten chocolate eyes within seconds. Now I am afraid of waking. Begging someone not to shake me won't work though. I am awake, conscious of my surroundings. I am so far away from the person I was seconds ago. That strong woman I aspire to be again has cowered in a moth eaten corner consumed by dew encrusted cobwebs. Surely the dew must epitomize spring, a new beginning for all? With a deep and hushed sigh, I compose myself whilst exiting the train which is obviously incompetent regarding erasing any fears.

Perhaps being amongst all the flourishing people rushing around the monumental platform should ease my thoughts. Conventionally, they should, but they do nothing. The cavernous area just renovates itself into a teeming jungle, one I yearn to free myself from. My teeth clamp onto the smooth inside of my plump bottom lip, anticipating the moment where I escape from this place. It bemuses me how a commodious area such as this can inhabit many, yet there is never any space to even breathe. The wintry exhale of another soon inflicts terror or discomfort onto me, those faces never failing to leave my mind even once. I am only here because I have finished my last day at the holiday camp where I taught dance class to children which will act as enrichment towards my future career. With a final glance at the tumultuous subway train exiting, I continue my journey into the fresh, sea-air fragrance of Santa Carla where I feel somewhat more unperturbed. My heart finally relaxes again as I am greeted by Michael at the top of the crudely adorned stairs. I shan't mention the incident earlier, but his facial expression moulding into the specific shape of panic frightens me. I knew something was going to happen, but what is the question? Michael bundles me into his arms, alleviation exuding from him.

"What is it?" I ask with my slender fingers forming an invisible, soft line down his jaw.

"Thank God you're alright" he sighs out of nothing but sheer relief, those sturdy arms of his locking around me.

"Michael," I tilt his chin so his soulful pale blue eyes, pursuing after an answer within them that will hopefully be expressed verbally soon, can look into mine "what is it?"

After a grave swallow, he nods as if reassuring himself that what is to be declared will not make me feel an intense, seething wrath. What has happened for him to be like this? Whatever it is, it feels as if only a glorious and munificent spirit will refresh his habitual vivacious strength of mind. Once again, he inhales a sacred breath that radiates tension.

"Let's walk and talk" He hinders anything from being said for now and tenderly snakes his arm around mine as we begin to meander warily down the street bursting with vibrant people. "I went home after work today instead of football practice. When I went into the house, the door literally slammed shut on me. The window was open so I thought it could have been the breeze. I thought you'd left it open 'cause it was pretty hot this morning, but then I had this dream, I heard their voices"

I, too, hear the voices of the damned. At times they were like hoarse, music notes fluttering around, never to be repeated. However, when the repetition came, it was monstrous. I could vividly hear and smell the foul stench of death polluting my ears with deceptions every time. I stroke Michael's hand, the skin golden from the sun's rays that unnerve us both, as if my thumb were a delicate and nimble paintbrush.

"They said they were after you and Laddie still and that it will only be a matter of time" he whispers in a low voice. Although he doesn't mention anything, I know the notion terrifies him. Each time we see those eyes undetectably laced with golden and scarlet flecks, we fear what they can do if we look too deeply into them.

"You know I'll never go back to them, Michael. I made that mistake three months ago thinking they'd save Laddie. Now they're back to making their threats. I know why, though. We made another deal that overruled the deal I made with them about leaving Laddie alone" I sigh, resting my head on his muscular shoulder.

I refer to what I said prior to my grievous exhale as a mistake because I should have realized Dwayne was playing games, that they would commence their menacing threats again. Even if the threats are a little more subtle due to a lack of physical contact, it is still exhausting to contend with the extensive amount mental harassment.

"I know you wouldn't willingly, Sierra" he heaves a noisy sigh just as I did, enveloping an arm around my shoulders. I acknowledge I wouldn't voluntarily drink the blood of The Devil's again. In spite of my diligence, fate may decide otherwise.

**_Fate being The Lost Boys who rule the night._**

"Anyway, I came home and was pretty tired, and once they started talking to me again, I took a sleeping pill and fell asleep. Then I started dreaming about them. Dwayne" Michael utters that name with nothing but revulsion, nearly growling it out. I cannot blame him, for I do the same now when I once felt joy. "He was with you. Kissing you, touching you like I touch you, giving you a necklace like I did" Again, Michael brings his words to a tense hiatus, but soon inhales with contemplation to signify that he will resume divulging this terrorizing dream to me. "I was yelling at him, telling him to leave you alone, telling him that he wouldn't get you. David just kept on telling me that you enjoyed it, I could feel him behind me, whispering it in my ear. Before I knew it, David was walking over to you. He winked at me and then they both started drinking your blood. I kept on screaming at them to stop, trying to move but I couldn't, like someone was stopping me. I woke up, and I swear the house was rocking and I could still hear him laughing, just repeating what he said in the dream. I went into the living room and the place was a mess. Plates had been thrown across the room, and..."

Out of nothing but distress, my brow knits together as Michael reveals the picture of us at the beach that was resting on the coffee table covered in sweet scented candles and magazines. Our eyes are no longer there as they hide behind the once immaculate glass now tainted by vicious scratches.

"I found it on the floor" he sighs, obviously aggravated at the intrusion. "Mom said we could stay at theirs tonight, though I kinda don't want to with Marlon always being around"

Michael and Marlon never did see eye to eye after the hospital incident. Somehow, since Lucy revealed her accidental pregnancy to us at the beginning of this month, Marlon has been endeavouring vehemently to become a father to Michael and Sam, both of whom are not having any of it. Although their biological father was nothing but harm to them after power demolished any compassion he had for his boys and wife, they don't want a substitute. If anything, they just want Marlon to be more understanding about their situation regarding their own father and the fact they haven't known him for a considerably long amount of time. Marlon is probably doing it with nothing but good intention, but his overly protective and officious conduct isn't allowing that good intention to shine.

"I'm not in the mood to be treated like a little kid tonight. The guy needs to focus on being a father to his own kid and the baby to come" Michael sighs again, the word 'baby' still evokes that miserable memory we hope won't repeat itself in the future. I wrap my arms around him as we walk to the car, nuzzling into his shoulder and place delicate kisses on his neck. "I just to be able to relax for a little while with you, that's all"

"And you will be able to. I'm sure there's somewhere we can crash for tonight. What about Jimmy and Star's place? We'll be able to see Laddie as well" I yawn, the news of our homes interior being destroyed making me exhausted within a few succinct moments.

"We could call. That, and I did promise Laddie that I'd bring over a few comics for him. I think Sam's converted him" Michael chuckles, tucking a few ringlets behind my pierced ear where a black hoop earring suspends before placing a gentle kiss there. "We can go home tomorrow morning and sort things out"

* * *

Their home was the personification of serenity. Several peach-colored paper lanterns with candles burning inside of them, not even impairing the delicate material, dangle from the ceiling and the roaring fireplace adorned with the trustworthy, dark purple and baby pink healing crystals and wooden sculptures – one being of two hands pressed together as if to kindly offer something to another – welcomes us. The walls are sheathed by cream, beige and ruby Moroccan-style flags. It reminds me of a bohemian version of the Topkapi Palace with its decor being whimsically tropical. Star gently takes our coats and rests them over the layers of square cushions of flaming orange and taupe as we sit down on our bed for the night, an elderly Aztec patterned couch with burnished pine brimming it. I watch her for a moment, admiring her normal outfit of a deep red gypsy skirt and white, cotton vest.

After the battle, Jimmy and Star announced their plan to move into an apartment Jimmy's parents bought for his 18th birthday. After a few weeks of staying with me whilst Jimmy and Star sorted out the apartment, Laddie moved in. Its only a few blocks away from where Michael and I live, so its convenient when Jimmy and Star want to go out or have a night to themselves as they can leave Laddie with us. That, and we scheduled that Laddie would come over at least two times a week to our house. However, recent events have put that schedule on a standstill.

"Have you two eaten yet? I just made dinner, so you're welcome to have some" Star tells us with us replying with an eager 'Yes, please'. She then passes us both a bowl she most likely carved from wood.

I glance into the bowl, seeing orecchiette with cherry tomatoes, mozzarella and basil pesto. As I daintily placing some in my mouth, I hear the pitter-patter of feet running towards us.

"Sierra! Michael!" Laddie shouts, rushing over to Michael who puts his bowl down to gather a giggling Laddie in his arms.

"Hey, how's my little buddy doing?" Michael chuckles, bouncing Laddie in his arms a little. Star and I glance at each other, smiles growing on our lips at the endearment Michael shows the child we have been caring for since we caught him crying on The Boardwalk.

"Okay, but I've missed you both! You've been at school too much" Laddie sighs, pouting jokingly which both Star and I chuckle at.

"Ah, but you have been, too" Michael smirks at Laddie, poking his nose teasingly, then turning his head to me. "How about you go give Sierra a hug?"

The corners of my lips spring up as Laddie leaps out of Michael's arms and dashes over to me, almost knocking my dinner out of my hands if it wasn't for me putting it down beforehand. It doesn't bother me though as I wrap my arms around his small body and pull him onto my lap.

"Hey, baby boy! Have you eaten yet?" I ask with Laddie's response being a happy nod. I catch a glimpse of the clock, the time being around 9 o'clock. "But, since you haven't started vacation like us big kids, you've gotta go to bed soon!"

"Can I just have five minutes to spend with you guys before I go back to Paul and Marko?"

My eyes widen. I never knew Laddie had dreams of Marko and Paul like I do to this day. They have been released of a hellish curse and assisted me in being free of David and Dwayne's nefarious scheme. I catch Michael's suspicious eye, full of worry for Laddie. Thankfully, I know that Marko and Paul will not bring any harm to us. Laddie puts his lips to my ears, waiting to divulge a secret.

"They say 'Hey, Sierra-Bear'" Raising his head, Laddie giggles with a cheeky grin pencilled on his lips. Star taps his shoulder and kisses his locks of light-brown hair, signalling that Laddie needs to go to bed soon.

"I wanna spend time with Michael and Sierra though! We've got wedding plans to organize!" Laddie asserts with a confident nod, instigating us all to laugh joyously.

"You can see us tomorrow, little man" Michael chuckles, throwing a cackling Laddie over his shoulder. "Say night to everyone, buddy, before you go to sleep" Laddie does as Michael says, waving at us whilst sticking his tongue out at Michael who is back within ten minutes to finish his dinner.

An hour later, Michael and I lay on the couch with the TV humming in the background. Our eyes fixate on it, but our minds are somewhere far away. I sigh as my head sinks into his dark curls, exhausted from the harrowing events this day has brought.

"You want to go away for a while, baby?" he mutters whilst his lips travel up and down my roasting forehead. I raise my head, heightening a groomed eyebrow at his remark. "I've been saving up and was thinking, maybe go to Hawaii or something, just to get away. We deserve a break"

I sigh in frustration mingled with exhaustion. Like Michael said, it would be nice to get away from the troublesome realm that is Santa Carla. Perhaps it would suffocate the detestable voices in my head. Will their foreboding messages stalk me to Hawaii? Is it possible? I shake my head and sigh, burying myself into Michael's shoulder.

"What about the plane tickets and the hotel, as well as paying for food and hiring a car to get around?" I remind him, earning a pout from Michael who hadn't thought about that. "Maybe we can crash at my aunt's in San Francisco for a few nights instead. It's still getting away for a while, just less expensive"

Michael pulls the blanket Star provided us just over my shoulder blades, adjusting it so it keeps me warm and smiles endearingly at me.

"We'll talk more about it in the morning, baby. Let's get some sleep" Michael brushes his lips with mine and just as I begin to pull away, he captures them again with a smirk growing on his lips. "Hey, I can't sleep without my goodnight kiss" he chuckles and kisses my forehead again. "Night, princess"

I return the goodnight wish and attempt to close my eyes. However, I can't evade the notion that vampires entered our house. They won't leave us alone until they get what they've been aspiring to get for years. All I can do is watch the eerie shadows wash over the room and ripple and contort with , her screams of panic rupture my foreboding reverie. Those shadows though, the evil in them enhanced that very second the scream was heard.

"Sierra, Michael! It's Laddie!"


	4. Breaking Down

Laddie's screams still ricochet around the tunnels of my ears, those beckons for all of them to come back to him. His boys, the only family he knew. They protected him from the evil the world had boasted countless times. It is so very hypocritical that they did that considering that the evil they yearned to shield him from really prowled around inside of them, growling menacingly. Laddie was never really safe from any of it. We all knew they would come back in the end. In dream form, they terrorized his cheery night-time hallucinations in the most bittersweet way. Laddie wants them back so he can ride on the road of terror concealed by the masquerade of liberty. They pretend to care, just as they did with me. Maybe they do care, maybe it isn't all a deception. Inwardly, I sigh heavily. Before we managed to pacify him with soothing words into a deep sleep again about two hours prior to this moment, Laddie yelped out his nightmares and we rushed into his room to discover Laddie was writing on the wall. With a singular crimson crayon, the colour now a mundane feature affixed to our lives, he sheathed the walls with three foreboding messages:

_**We are waiting for you. **_

_**Blood will be your fate. **_

_**The Lost Boys will win. **_

We spent about two hours musing over those harrowing words and what their insidious agenda could be. David will adhere to his deal, that I have no doubt about. However, there will be a loophole that we have no knowledge of. Only time can predict our futures, yet we will not be informed of these prophecies until the moment arrives. I know they have and will continue to wait for Michael and I to admit defeat and the result of that would be The Lost Boys winning as we surrender by drinking the blood of another.

Presently, I attempt to disregard the meanings, but I can't. My field of vision is primarily fastened on the closed door to Laddie's room, the vibrant comic book posters not even distracting me from what is now in there. Star made the decision to leave with Laddie. They are not safe in Santa Carla anymore. None of us are, but a child's wellbeing comes first. Jimmy came in from a lively night on The Boardwalk surrounded by glaring flames physically and metaphorically to discover what had happened and subsequent to a lengthy discussion of which route we should all go down for the benefit of Laddie, we agreed that leaving Santa Carla would be the best choice. Michael and I will not leave the town as we have family here to protect, but the unremitting tears suspending from Star's extensive eyelashes was enough for us to conclude the debate before any more hearts were severely fractured. Star and Laddie are now on the way to a hotel approximately an hour away from Santa Carla. They cannot get Laddie there. Jimmy is driving them there as I ponder over the moving image of Laddie being lulled into a dream by the rare, fleeting car lights. It is like the door speaks, repeating the events in daunting words, a sneer. I flinch as Michael softly touches my shoulder, but my equilibrium returns as it musters enough poise to embrace him. Somehow, I feel intoxicated by exhaustion. The room contorts as it dances wildly in its vertigo, singing some foreign lullaby from the underworld. One blink is all it takes to abolish the trembling air. Those sneers still recount what happened, going into a deep analysis of the red quotes. They plague my mind. _**My mind... **_

It's all in my head. God, what's happening to me?

"Bath's ready" Michael yawns, his furrowed brow telling me that he is examining my moment of silence. "Sierra, baby, are you okay?"

"Mmhmm, just a little dizzy" I murmur through his gentle kiss that I immediately become enamoured with.

"Go get your bath, baby. I'll come join you in a moment" Michael tells me, gesturing to the bathroom door, the blandest part of the exotic house. I nod once and then walk away to the bathroom. This is a mundane life to me now, dealing with shit from those vampires. I can't stand it, but I've got to fight. I'll be able to combat their wicked plot, but will my mind? It only wants peace.

* * *

My body submerges itself into the entrapment of the consoling, lukewarm waters. However, this does not soothe me in the slightest for I can see the crescent-shaped moon with all its vexing glory dangling carelessly in the velvet, black canopy. Foretelling tragedy and murders, it is the vampire's God. They worship it as it gifts them life. Life being their own and the innocents of Santa Carla. Angels and devils. But even those who die are not angelic beings. None of us are the depiction of a celestial mortal, not in this town and not in the whole world. Whilst we possess purity and zeal to be good, or so we are expected to, every citizen is somehow defiled with sin. Soon, I languish in the water, my eyes open to see the blurry picture of what is above me. The pale orbs of David look back at me, but I know he isn't there as my back arches slightly so I can breathe in the faint smoke with a rose scent engraved into the white vapour twirling around the room and curling around my nostrils as if wishing to suffocate me with its beauty. It reminds me of the guys in a way, how their splendour decayed with each falsehood. They were like exquisite poison, deadly yet captivating because they could stop a heartbeat. They were depraved and that is where I conclude my musings as the door creaks open. Michael peeks his head around the gap exposing the bohemian environment of the house's main room.

"I just called Mom, she's letting us stay at theirs if needs beMichael grouches before slipping into the bath with me, delicately positioning me so I rest on his lap. I cross my arms so they overlap his bronzed arms that wrap around my dainty waist tightly in an endearing cuddle.

"You don't seem too happy about that" I sigh as I relax my head on his shoulder, my nose rubbing the side of his neck whilst looking into his light blue eyes.

"Just the whole being around Marlon telling me what to do. We don't necessarily have to stay. Besides, I like it when it's just us two" Michael kisses my ear a singular time and sighs as he rests his forehead on the back of my damp neck covered with wet strands of my once wavy locks. "You think Star will come back to Santa Carla?"

"Yeah, just on weekends and when its day. She'll keep Laddie in school, but will pick him up as soon as possible and take him home" I reply then getting out after the bath fails to make me content. Michael follows after quickly lathering his hair with shampoo once and drying off.

We'll win in the end. That's the only declaration I can promise myself, even if half of the vow has been drained of dedication. Maybe these morose thoughts are originating from my fatigue. Today has been irksome and gruelling; no one can refute the truth in that assertion. I refuse to lie down on hot pebbles and die for those creatures the night breeds.


End file.
